


Nightmares

by seoafin



Series: nightlight [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DC Animated Universe, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Assassin! Reader, F/M, a little self loathing, emo reader, not that much angst, one-night stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seoafin/pseuds/seoafin
Summary: Jason has nightmares. You can see it in his eyes, shadows trying to writhe their way into the surface.....Or in which you fix up a bloody Jason and realize, that maybe you two have a lot more in common than you originally thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this is a part of my assassin! reader series. there's hints of a one-night stand and that's all. the reader and jason have met before so they know each other.
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr: http://seoafin.tumblr.com/post/153662869294/sleep
> 
> **Edited: 12/10/16  
> **Edited: 5/13/17

You don’t really have a relationship with Dick, at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself.

You can’t help but think of yourself as a liar, promising yourself only more time – only to come back for more. Dick is like a drug, and you’re addicted.

It scares you.

Bold, reckless, emotions that you aren’t accustomed to. You’re not used to feeling anything so… _alive_.

You’re also a hypocrite, you think to yourself. Dick’s quiet breathing fills the silent night air next to you as you lay on your back, naked. Dick sleeps next to you, equally naked. You can feel the familiar pang of self-loathing in your chest.

The sheets pool at your hips as you sit up, and for a moment you can see Dick’s still body in the moonlight, cuts mar down his muscled and toned back.

Yearning fills you. You want it to always be like this, to see him, hair mussed and eyes closed, peacefully sleeping. But you know in the deep recesses of your mind that this is fleeting. You don’t deserve happiness, you know that.

Several crashes sounds from Dick’s living room, right outside the bedroom. Years of conditioning have you ready at the sound of the first crash. You jump up, quickly snatching Dick’s shirt off the floor and in five seconds you have a dagger in hand.

The sound of groaning has you surprised, you pad into the living room and then lower your guard. Jason lies on the floor, his body a bleeding mess. His helmet is thrown haphazardly across the room. You rush over to him, it looks serious, blood leaking out of his body at an alarming rate.

Placing the dagger down on a nearby surface, you rush into Dick’s bathroom and quickly grab the first aid kit.

Back in the living room, Jason hisses and bites back a curse as you gently probe at his injuries with cotton. Luckily, you had been trained in medical assistance all those years ago.

“What happened?” You softly murmur as you assess his wounds. Three bullet wounds and multiple bleeding scratches, from the slight curve of the scratch it likely came from a jagged knife. You file the information in the back of your head.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He says in a scathing tone when you press on the bleeding cut. “Gang,” He pants. “Illegal,” Then as if noticing your state of undress, he grits out, “Is he sleeping?”

You give a curt nod. Usually by now you’d be gone. But by now you can only blame yourself at this point.

“Get comfortable.” You say, elevating his head on a pillow you had taken from the couch. “It’s going to be a while.”

***********

You've just finished wrapping the bandages around Jason’s wounds. His eyes glaze over and you know that he must be sleepy.

As for you, you’ve stayed over longer than you ever have. Usually gone the moment after Dick falls asleep. It's a guilty pleasure, watching him sleep, his chest lifting up and down. He always asks you to stay, but that's one thing you can't oblige, the moment you become addicted--

Lifting Jason up, you slowly lie him down on the couch, making sure to not reopen any scars. Then you take a seat on the armrest of the couch, watching him as if he might disappear. 

Jason cracks open an eye.

With an aching groan, he sits up on one arm. “Thanks," he mutters, "I’ll be on my merry way now," arm swooping down, he tries to grab his bloody jacket.

You stop him. “You need rest.” you say firmly from your place on the couch, staring him down.

Something swirls in the corners of his eyes and your heart grows heavy.

Jason has nightmares. You can see it in his eyes, shadows trying to writhe their way into the surface. In a way he reminds you of yourself several years ago, breathing but not alive. No reason to live, hands stained with blood and the cries of all you’ve killed.

That must have been the reason why there had been an immediate connection the moment Dick had introduced you two.

Maybe it's his anger. The anger he holds within himself that you envy. You, the lifeless doll who did whatever you were told. The follower, the killer. _Lifeless._

_You envied that anger so much._

You understand him, in a strange, familiar way that nobody else has ever been able to. The black sheep of the flock, never belonging anywhere. ~~You ignore the fact that whenever you're around Dick you feel the exact opposite.~~

“Go to sleep Jason.”

His eyebrows furrow in distress as he sits up, placing cradling his face against his hands. “I can’t,” He rasps out, his hand reaches out, tightening against you. “The nightmares…”

“…I know.” It's silent as you frantically try to piece together a coherent sentence in your head. The grip of Jason's fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist scalds you to the core and you resist the urge to flinch and hurl into the nearest toilet. Foreign contact, _touch_. Something you had been deprived of as a child. You vaguely wonder when you had stopped recoiling from Dick's touch and started to welcome it. The rough callouses of his hands, so hot against the curve of your body-

_Stop._

"I promise," Your voice sounds scratchier, sore. You aren't used to making promises, you don't make promises. Maybe because you've never been around long enough to see them fulfilled, but something in Jason's eyes reverberates within you. "It gets easier."

Three years and still, the most you can sleep is two hours a day at separate intervals. 

Are you lying now?

For you? For him? The line between answer and question is blurred. 

The need to run far away overcomes you like a bullet in the gut, away from Gotham, away from complicated feelings and the sense that yes, you do want to belong. Away from the you who now makes promises, lies, and _cares_  ( ~~that's a lie, you've always cared. Too much for someone of your profession. The madame would be so _ **disappointed**_~~ ) the irritating pang in your heart every time you think of that messy black hair, piercing blue eyes and smooth lips that whisper secrets and promises into your ears on heated nights.

You won't believe them. You refuse to. ~~Because maybe, just maybe you'll find yourself believing them.~~

His grip loosens and Jason's eyes are fluttering close. From the slight quirk of his lips you can deduce that he knows that you're lying. It won't ever get easier. You should know that better than anyone else. But for today, right in this moment, if it'll bring reprieve to a poor and battered soul like Jason's, you know deep down that you'd lie your heart out.

That's all you can really say, and all he seems to need.

His hair falls from your fingers and you comb through it. He lets out a contented sigh.

"Goodnight Jason."  
  
He goes limp in your lap.

************

Dick wakes up to an empty bed and tries to ignore the feeling of disappointment that rises in his throat.

You’re gone.

Then he sees your clothes still scattered around the room, where he had thrown them the night before. Where are you?

Dressing, he walks out to find the answer to his previous question.

Your head is slightly lolled forward, hair obscuring your face. His hand twitches with the urge to cup your face and tuck the strand behind your ear. On your lap is a small piece of paper. Jason’s scrawl is identifiable.

 _Thank you._ It says.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember hearing anything last night, knocked out after the combined effort of his nightly patrol and your visit.

A primal satisfaction runs through him when he sees you in his shirt…covered with blood.

Heart racing, his first instinct is to check for any injuries but on closer inspection he sees that it can’t be yours, so it must have been Jason's. You must've fixed him up while he had been asleep. The thought of you taking care of his brother warms his heart, but he'd rather have you in his bed, sleeping with the sun warming your body. 

Damian would like you, he muses. 

Dick sees the abrupt twitch of your eyes, and meets your sleepy, hazy ones. He grins, “Morning sunshine.”

Your eyes snap open, wide. Bolting up, the paper falls to the floor and Dick has to resist from blatantly checking out your lithe legs, clad in nothing but his shirt that falls mid thigh.

“I’m sorry,” You spill out quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” He says, hand shooting out to grab your arm. You freeze, tensing up and he notices. He lets go and rubs the back of his head with a sheepish smile on his face. “At least stay for breakfast?”

He sounds hopeful and your chest constricts. You’ve always been a sucker to that look on his face – a mixture of pleading and hope. Dick Grayson is beautiful and he _knows_ it –  no qualms about using his looks whatsoever.

Your lips unknowingly curve upwards in an effortless smile that always seems to be in place around a certain Dick Grayson.

~~_Youdon’tdeservethisyoudon’tdeservehappiness-_ ~~

“I’d like that.”

 


End file.
